


Not Part Of The Plan

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Mentions of homophobia, Winter dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan is pretty simple: Charlie just needs a girl to pretend to be Castiel's date so he can actually go with Dean. But after failing that basic premise, Charlie gets stuck with irritating troublemaker Dorothy, and she fully intends to keep her at arm's lenght until the whole ordeal is over. But the more time she spends with her, the more she realizes this plan may not turn out how she expected it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The plan was  pretty simple. The situation that had originated it, not so much.

Dean and Castiel wanted to go to the Winter Dance together, because they were dorks and gay like that. But the fact was that Castiel’s family was very religious and super conservative about those issues, so even if the school had reluctantly accepted same sex couples could go together, they wouldn’t. Even if Dean showed up at his home with the “we’re going to get our dates now” excuse, it wasn’t going to work.

“Mother is already suspicious of you,” Castiel said, tapping his fork against the lunch table anxiously. “If we even remotely give her a reason to think we’re together, you can count on me being homeschooled. In my uncle Zachariah’s farm, two states away.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean put a hand over his boyfriend's arm to stop him from keep abusing the table. “It’s fine. We’ll figure something out.”

And that was when he had turned to look at Charlie and remembered she was a girl.

Charlie couldn’t really blame him for forgetting about it so often. They had been next door neighbors since they were babies, and with her spending so much time at the Winchesters’ house growing up, sometimes Mary Winchester joked she was the daughter she never had.

“Oh, but you know what would be really cute?” Mrs. Campbell, Dean’s grandmother, had said once. “If Dean and Charlene got married when they grow older. Then she really would be part of the family.”

Dean and Charlie had simultaneously pretended to vomit. Not only because they were eight at the time and the whole concept of marriage was horrifying to them, but also, as it would turn out years later, because they were both raging homosexuals. Life was funny that way.

“Charles, you could pretend to be Cas’ date,” Dean suggested.

Charlie peeked at them over the comic she was reading.

“Okay,” she said, because Dean was her best friend and it really was a no brainer to decide helping him. And also, she could always use this as a way to blackmail Dean into all sorts of favors for her.

“Uh, I don’t know if that will work…” Castiel began saying, stroking his chin, obviously not convinced.

“Yes, it will,” Dean said, with the little shrug of his shoulders that usually indicated he had not thought his brilliant plans through. “We pick you up…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charlie interrupted. “I mean, if I show up that’s fine, because I’m supposed to be his date, but if you show up too, it’ll just be weird.”

“Besides, it’s unorthodox for the girl to pick the guy up,” Castiel pointed out. “You know how my family feels about unorthodoxy. But that’s not the point…”

Dean breathed in deeply and reformulated:

“Why can’t you just say you’re going to pick up your date and come over at my home?” he suggested. “That way you wouldn’t be lying, which you suck at.”

“That is not true,” Castiel said, completely offended. Charlie had to take his side on that one: if Castiel could keep the appearances in front of his family, it was very likely he could lie about practically everything. “And even if I do that, they will still demand pictures of the girl in question. But that is not…”

“Well, then, you go, take a picture with Charlie and pick me up,” Dean said.

“Hey, I want to go to the dance too,” Charlie argued. “But I refuse to be your third wheel.”

“I’m telling you it’s not going to work because my mother already thinks you two are dating,” Castiel explained, clearly losing his patience. “I told her that when she kept asking if Dean had a girlfriend. So unless we plunge into an overtly-complicated narrative about you two breaking up, it’s not going to work.”

Charlie and Dean remained silent, recalibrating the plan.

“Yeah, or unless you go as the third wheel,” Charlie sighed in the end.

“Is being a third wheel so bad?” Castiel tilted his head. “I always thought they added extra grip, greater stability…”

“You know what’s even better than a third wheel?” Dean asked, his face lighting up the way it did when he had a brilliant idea. “A fourth wheel. Charlie, you need to get a date.”

“Oh, so she can pretend to be Cas’ date,” Charlie guessed, nodding as she understood where this was all going. “And we can say we’re going all together because the more the merrier and Cas’ family won’t think he’s socially awkward gay weirdo.”

Castiel squinted at her, obviously not flattered by that more than accurate description.

“Yes, exactly,” Dean nodded, and Castiel glared at him with his mouth slightly agape. “Oh, don’t give me that look, babe, you know you’re not the most extroverted person on the planet.”

“Besides the point,” Castiel groaned. “We have two problems: one, the dance is only a few weeks away. Will you get a date in time?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie scoffed, confidently. “I mean, have you seen me? I’m a chick magnet!”

“I wouldn’t know,” Castiel admitted. “The second problem, will you convince her to go along with this shameless farce we’re devising?”

“You know, I love it when you use nerd words…”

“Not now, Dean.” Castiel shut Dean’s flirting down with a simple gesture, his eyes still on Charlie. “Will you?”

“Sure,” Charlie shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be? We’ll just have to pretend long enough for your mom to snap a picture and that’ll be it.”

Castiel still didn’t look convinced, but in view that he couldn’t come up with anything better, he ended up accepting it.

The plan was, indeed, pretty simple. That didn’t mean it was going to be as easy to pull off as Charlie thought.

First of all, there weren’t that many girls who played for her team in the school. And the ones who did, well… Charlie might or might have hooked up with all of them at one point or another. She wasn’t joking when she said she was a chick magnet, or maybe so many girls just hit on her because she was just one of the two only out and proud lesbians in the school. Some of the girls Charlie had been with were all “Oh, my parents can’t know about this” or “You’re so much better than my boyfriend! He’s going to be so pissed.” So they were down for making out and fun times. Convincing one to come to the dance with her was a completely different animal.

And Glinda, the only other out lesbian in the school, was… well, she was something, alright.

“Charlie, I have absolutely no problem with going to the dance with you,” she said when Charlie explained the situation to her. She closed her locker and smiled at Charlie. “You know I consider us friends… with benefits.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Charlie nodded, already sensing there was a “but” hidden in there, so she tried to stop it from coming with mindless blubbering: “We can have so much fun together, I mean, it’d be like we’re doing something cool and sort of coupley for a change…”

“But,” Glinda interrupted her. “I am not going along with that charade of yours.”

Charlie closed her eyes for a moment. She must have known that would be Glinda’s opinion. She looked all kind and gentle with her hippy dresses and her flower crowns, but Charlie knew she was willing and able to rip the heads of whoever crossed her. And religious homophobes really crossed her, so maybe it was not the brightest idea to get her in the same room with Castiel’s mom.

“Look, it’s not even going to be…”

“Castiel should not be ashamed of what he is,” Glinda continued, as if Charlie hadn’t said a word. “We have enough with the world shaming us.”

“He’s not ashamed, he’s just…” Charlie argued, but Glinda’s glare disarmed whatever attempt she had at a rational argument. “It’s not that simple for everybody, and you know it.”

“Regardless,” Glinda said. “I will not go where I can’t openly be who I am. Sorry, but if that is the condition for going to the dance with you, I’ll have to pass.”

She swung her backpack over her shoulder with an apologetic smile.

“But we’re still up for the LARPing this weekend, aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course,” Charlie said. “We’re fighting the Shadow Orc King for the west side of the Enchanted Forest.”

“Wonderful!” Glinda said, with a glimmer in her eye that made Charlie feel sorry for the poor orcs.

So that was out of the question. At least Glinda’s problem with it was that she didn’t want to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. The rest of the girls she asked turned her down because they didn’t want the whole school to know about their preferences.

“We made out in front of the whole room at Andy’s party!” Charlie complained.

“That was just… we were just… it didn’t mean…” Lily stuttered, clearly annoyed at being called out on her hypocrisy. “Look, I just can’t go with you, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

It felt pretty personal anyway. With a sigh, Charlie had to cross out Lily for the mental list she had made of potential dates.

“No, it’s going great,” she lied to Dean and Castiel when they asked her about it after school. “In fact, I’ve got like three girls who want to go with me. I just have to decide which one is more Cas’ type so it’ll be credible.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Castiel pointed out.

“Hey, some chicks dig you,” Dean pointed out. Castiel huffed as if to say ‘That’s not really the point’ and grabbed his boyfriend by the arm.

“Let’s go, Dean,” he said. “We can leave this to Charlie.”

“Yes, leave it to me!” Charlie replied, waving at them as they walked towards the parking lot to get in Dean’s car. “Don’t worry about a thing, you guys!”

She waited until they drove away to sit on the stairs and bury her face in her hands. What was she going to do? Well, she could ask a girl to go with Castiel. She knew a couple who were oblivious to the truth and actually had crushes on him. But she didn’t think they would be willing to be his beard for the night, and besides, that would require her to disclose Dean and Castiel’s relationship to people she didn’t know for sure she could trust. There was no way she was doing that.

So, back to square one…

“I take it they should be worried,” someone said behind her and Charlie startled.

The girl behind her smiled at her, apparently amused by her jumpiness. Without an invitation, she sat down by Charlie’s side, stretching her legs to display her heavy biker boots. She reached inside her leather jacket and took out a pack of cigarettes like she didn’t care if she got caught smoking in the school stairs at all.

“So,” she said, putting one between her lips. “What seems to be your problem, pretty thing?”

“Don’t you dare light that up,” Charlie said, glaring at her in what she hope was a good imitation of her mother’s angry face. “I don’t want your second hand cancer, thank you very much.”

The girl put down her lighter, surprised, but still smiling at Charlie, if the glimmer in her clear blue eyes was anything to judge by.

“Okay, you’re a fierce one, aren’t you, Red?”

Charlie was a little annoyed that she had given her a nickname two seconds after meeting her, but she couldn’t deny the girl was intriguing. She had straight brown hair falling over her shoulders, and a temporary tattoo of a butterfly on her wrist. At least she thought it was temporary. She really couldn’t tell the difference.

“Do I know you?” she asked, squinting her eyes.

“Nah, I just felt like talking to you,” the girl admitted calmly. “You seemed like you had a little bit of drama going on and I always find drama interesting.”

The answer annoyed Charlie even more. Her problems and her friends' problem weren’t there for this weird, mean girl to ogle at and she wasn’t going to vent her issues and Dean and Cas’ issues to a complete stranger.

“Okay, I think I should go now,” Charlie said, standing up.

“No, come on!” the girl said, standing up as well and walking behind Charlie. “Red, come on, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“My name is not Red,” Charlie replied, not even turning to look at her. “It’s Charlie. And following people around is creepy.”

She stopped hearing the footsteps behind her, so she assumed the girl had given up. Which was a good thing, because she was totally irked by her and not at all interested in knowing what she meant by being attracted to drama and why she had a leather jacket and biker boots. Did she even have a bike? Or was she just playing the too cool for school shtick to make herself more intriguing? Not that it worked, because Charlie was totally not at all intrigued and not looking over her shoulder to see if she was still there…

Dammit, she looked. She was totally still there, just a few steps behind Charlie, and smiling like she totally knew Charlie would turn around to look.

“The name’s Dorothy Baum,” she said.

“So?” Charlie said, in the hopes she would sound aloof and detached.

“Well, you told me your name; I thought it was fair I told you mine.” Dorothy shrugged.

“Well, I don’t care,” Charlie replied. “I don’t care who you are.”

And just like that, she absolutely murdered whatever chance she had at actually pretending not to care. She knew Dorothy. Well, she knew of Dorothy, in any case, and in more than one occasion she had thought the girl was nothing but a legend or a cautionary tale to get everyone to behave. “Did you hear? Dorothy Baum got caught smoking by the bleachers again” or “Dorothy Baum got into a fight with the cheerleader captain” or “They’re saying Dorothy Baum got expelled, but I think she’s just skipping classes again”.

But now there she was, in the flesh, wrapped in her super cool leather jacket and smirking at Charlie like she knew exactly what she was thinking. She took a step towards her with the absolute certainty Charlie wasn’t going to turn around again, which was extremely arrogant of her. And… goddammit, she was at least a head taller than Charlie, and her eyes were even more intimidating up close. So Charlie just stood there like a deer in the headlights, wondering what the hell she had done to deserve this.

“You’re Glinda’s girl, aren’t you?”

“No… yes,” Charlie replied, shifting her feet awkwardly. “We… do stuff together sometimes, but it’s not like we’re official or anything.”

“Oh, I see,” Dorothy gave her a curt nod. “So I guess Glinda won’t mind if I offer you a ride home, will she?”

She jerked her head towards a corner of a parking lot, and at least one mystery about her was resolved: she did have a bike. A big, mean one for what Charlie could appreciate. She knew very little about bikes, but that thing looked like the kind of bikes you saw on TV jumping over three or four trucks and a ring of fire before flawlessly landing on the road again. What the hell kind of parent let their kid ride that thing was beyond Charlie, but it was undeniable it had a certain appeal to it.

A suicidal appeal. There was no way, no how she was getting on that thing.

“No, I guess she won’t,” Charlie admitted, but she crossed her arms over her chest. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to accept it.”

Dorothy snickered, but she raised her hands in the air.

“Okay, have it your way,” she said. “See you around, Red.”

She strode towards her bike, and in the time it took her to get the helmet out of her bag pack and pass a leg over the seat, Charlie had an idea. She usually wasn’t this slow at having ideas, but Dorothy had caught her by surprise with forwards flirting and her eyes, and her tallness…

“Hey, wait,” Charlie called her as she ran towards her. “Okay, maybe I’ll take the ride.”

Dorothy’s face lit up, and the smirk she showed Charlie sent shivers down her spine. She looked like a cat that was about to eat a very delicious and fat canary.

“But I need to know something first,” Charlie said, still trying to maintain her composure. “Would you be willing to go with me to the Winter Dance with me?”

Dorothy’s smirk vanished.

“The Winter Dance?” she repeated, confused.

“Yes,” Charlie cleared her throat, seeing she would have to make it crystal clear: “Would you go?”

Dorothy blinked at Charlie a couple of times. She gave her a half smile that also faltered, almost like she thought it was a joke but she either wasn’t getting the punch line or Charlie hadn’t delivered it yet.

“No, sorry, Red,” she said, after it became obvious Charlie was completely serious. “I don’t do dances as a general principle.”

“Yeah, thought you might say that,” Charlie sighed. “Okay, see you.”

“Wait, what was that about?” Dorothy asked before Charlie could walk away. “Because, like… I can tell you’re into me, but I don’t think you’re that into me to invite me to a dance two hot seconds after meeting me.”

Charlie scoffed. Why was Dorothy presuming that she was into her? Not taking into account the fact that she was a gorgeous girl with a bike. Which Charlie was still not getting on.

“You think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Dorothy shrugged, as if to say _“Well, yeah.”_

“It’s not for me,” Charlie confessed. “It’s for a friend.”

Dorothy raised a finger.

“Okay, start from the beginning.”

So Charlie explained it to her: about Dean and Castiel, Cas’ family’s outdated bigot views on homosexuality, and the plan they had come up with. She almost expected Dorothy to react the same way Glinda had, but the girl surprised her:

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“You… really?” Charlie asked, perplexed. “But… you don’t do dances.”

“I can make an exception in this case,” Dorothy said. “I mean, it’s hard enough as it is out there for us. We gotta help each other out in any way we can.”

“Yeah,” Charlie nodded, still too astonished to put together a coherent answer. “Yeah, that’s… cool of you.”

“Why, thanks,” Dorothy replied. She put the helmet on and threw a leg over her bike. “Let me know when this thing is, will you?”

The roaring of the engine drowned out Charlie’s answer. In the blink of an eye, Dorothy was out of the parking lot, leaving nothing but a trail of dark smoke behind her. Charlie felt it for her lungs.

But at least that was solved. They just needed to completely hide the fact Dorothy was a biker chick with a leather jacket who smoked, and Castiel’s mother would be more than delighted.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sounds easy enough.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look, and as it was usual when they did that, Charlie felt like she had just missed an entire conversation.

They were standing by Charlie’s locker, where she had told everyone to meet her after class so she could make the introductions. After all, they would want to see what Cas’ fake date at least looked like, and it was absolutely vital that they briefed Dorothy on what she was going to encounter at the Novak’s household. Dorothy presented herself in full biker outfit, shrugged and nodded at everything the guys told her and assured them that she was going to behave.

Castiel was clearly not convinced.

“I don’t think you understand,” he kept saying. “It’s very important for my mother that I date a traditionally feminine girl…”

“Got you,” Dorothy said. “I’ll be the Stepford Girlfriend, don’t worry about it.”

Castiel cringed, perhaps because he didn’t understand that reference, or perhaps because he doubted that Dorothy, with her combat boots, her ripped jeans and her leather jacket could ever pass off as anything but what she was.

Dean seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he turned to Charlie to ask in a whisper:

“Where did you even find her?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Charlie replied simply. “Okay, that’s great. So now that the presentations are made, I guess we’ll see each other at the dance. Just give Dean your address so he can pick you up…”

“Woah, Red, hold on,” Dorothy interrupted her. “There’s one more little detail we have to discuss.”

“Is it payment?” Castiel asked. “I have some money saved up, I can…”

“Uhm, I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” Dorothy interrupting him, crooking an eyebrow. “As I’m sure Charlie explained to you?”

Castiel continued to look at her skeptically as Dorothy turned towards Charlie.

“I need you to help me find a dress.”

Charlie blinked, confused.

“You… don’t have a…?”

“Nope,” Dorothy shrugged. “I mean, I have a really nice suit and tie, but I don’t think that’s something Castiel’s mother would agree with.”

“For the love of God, help her find a dress,” Castiel begged.

Charlie figured that since she was already in it, she might as well take it to the end.

 

* * *

 

“Come on!” Charlie shouted in her mic. “I need more power! I’m being killed over here. Oh, that’s really nice, Tom. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

It was a typical Friday night… though it would have been more accurate to say that it was a typical Saturday morning and once more, Charlie had missed her chance to go to sleep early and wake the next day to be a productive member of society. She was at that point where she transcended her tiredness and all that existed was the computer, the bad guys on the other side trying to get her team and their voices yelling in her headphones.

And suddenly it all stopped when someone pulled her headphones away.

Charlie was disoriented for a second or two before turning to her left.

“Hey!” she said. “I was using that!”

“Did you sleep at all last night, Charlene?” Mrs. Bradbury asked, with a stern look.

Charlie looked at the computer, looked at her perfectly made bed and then back at her mother. She had no idea how she had managed to roll up to her all that quietly, but there she was now.

“… yes?” she attempted to lie. Mrs. Bradbury crooked an eyebrow, so Charlie changed strategies: “Why does it matter? It’s Saturday.”

“I know it’s Saturday,” Mrs. Bradbury said. “You know how I know? Because you made plans with a girl and you apparently completely forgot about them.”

“I didn’t make plans with…” Charlie began protesting, but then the emotional equivalent of having a bucket of cold water thrown at her hit her. “Oh.”

“She’s waiting for you downstairs,” Mrs. Bradbury added. “Do you want me to stall her? Or tell her that you’ve got cramps and you can’t go?”

Charlie was ever so thankful that her mother was so understanding. She could have easily squirreled away from her compromise of going shopping with Dorothy, but she remembered she wasn’t just doing it for her.

“Please, stall her,” she requested. “And please make some coffee.”

“Way ahead of you,” Mrs. Bradbury said as she spun her chair towards the door. “There’ll be a freshly brewed pot waiting for you.”

In retrospective, Charlie should have postponed the shopping trip, not only because she was so exhausted, but because in the ten minutes it took her to brush her teeth, wash her face and find something clean to wear, Dorothy and her mother became best friends.

“You don’t say!” Mrs. Bradbury was saying, leaning on the table, eyes wide open and a huge grin in her face. “I love his books! We used to read them with Charlene every night! I didn’t even know he lived here.”

“Oh, well, he travels a lot,” Dorothy answered. She too was smiling and doing that thing with her shoulders when one shrugged trying to look humble but at the same time being like _‘You impressed?’_ “He’s always so happy to meet his fans; he just can’t stay away from them.”

“Charlene!” Mrs. Bradbury said when Charlie made her appearance. “Did you know Dorothy is the daughter of Frank Baum? You remember we used to read his books a lot?”

Charlie had a vague memory of some books that taught her to count or read while following the adventures of a little girl that pretended to be a detective. In fact, now that she thought about it…

“You’re the Delightful Dorothy?” Charlie asked. She was trying with all her might not to laugh, and more when Dorothy’s smile became a little tense at the revelation. “Oh, wow, I would have never imagined it!”

She meant to say she would have never imagined Dorothy was related to the writer, but Dorothy obviously interpreted she meant she would have never imagined Delightful Dorothy growing up to be a motorcycle-rider smoking butch lesbian, because she muttered:

“Neither would have my dad.”

Charlie perceived the bitterness in her tone and decided to shut up, because the only bitterness she could endure at that hour of the morning after an entire sleepless night was the bitterness of coffee.

As soon as she could find her mug, that was.

“Hey, mom, have you seen…?” she started, but then she noticed what Dorothy was drinking from: her Harry Potter novelty mug with the Ravenclaw shield. “That’s mine,” Charlie squinted.

“Sorry,” Dorothy said, and proceeded to take a sip from it, maybe to rub salt in the wound.

“Oh, dearie, we have lots of mugs,” Mrs. Bradbury said. “Hurry up, the coffee’s getting cold.”

Charlie used the Star Wars one instead, but she wasn’t happy about it. And she was even less happy when Dorothy continued to chat up to her mom, portraying herself in such a sweet manner that had very little to do with the image that Charlie had formed of her.

“I would love to be a writer like my dad. Well, not like him. I would like to write more young adults or mystery novels. I’m currently looking into colleges that offer a good English Major program.”

“That is so wonderful that you know what you want to do,” Mrs. Bradbury said, nodding in approval. “Charlene, here, is a still a little indecisive…”

“I still have almost two years to think about it, mom,” Charlie groaned.

“Yes, but a little bit of anticipated plans never hurt anybody.”

“That’s what I always say,” Dorothy added.

Charlie gulped down the rest of her coffee in one go, clutching the mug with a little more strength than necessary because strangling people who annoyed her was illegal.

“Well, look at the time,” she said. “We should go before the shopping mall gets too crowded.”

“Oh, but that’s when shopping malls are the most fun!”

Charlie was pretty certain Dorothy was just trying to poke out of pure evilness now, but once again, her mother did her a solid.

“I didn’t mean to entertain you,” she said. “Go now. Have fun. I hope you find very cute dresses!”

“Thank you, mom,” Charlie said, not even bothering to look back as she grabbed her coat from the hanger.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Bradbury!” Dorothy said. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“You too, dear,” Mr. Bradbury replied, with a grin that Charlie knew meant she was already choosing centerpieces for the tables at their wedding. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

“Your mom’s nice,” Dorothy commented, as they crossed the garden.

“Okay, you don’t need to keep that up with me,” Charlie groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Keep what up?”

“The whole _‘I’m a nice girl and I will respect your daughter’_ act,” Charlie huffed. “You can drop it.”

Dorothy chuckled for a moment, and then seemed to realize that Charlie was completely serious and unamused by her antics.

“Is that what you really think about me?” she asked. Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, to show that yes, that was exactly what she thought. “Red, it wasn’t an act. I really do think your mom’s pretty cool.”

“She’s the coolest person to ever walk or roll on this planet,” Charlie corrected her. “But you wouldn’t know about that.”

Dorothy stepped backwards, raising her hands in a defensive gesture, as if she thought Charlie might jump at her neck at any second. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, if Charlie was being honest. She got cranky when she hadn’t slept well and she was not in the mood to endure Dorothy’s pretended cool girl attitude.

However, the sooner they left, the sooner Charlie could come back home and sleep until Monday. So she just turned around and crossed the garden’s gate.

“Where’s your bike?” she asked, looking around.

“Oh, we’re not going on that today,” Dorothy said, taking out a keychain from the inside of her jacket. “Today we’re travelling in style.”

She pressed a button and a brand new red Ford Mustang on the other side of the road beeped in response.

“Pretty awesome, huh?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Charlie asked, feigning indifference.

In fact, she was a little impressed. The car was so shiny it looked like it had just rolled out of the factory. It probably cost more than Charlie’s entire college fund, and Dorothy just took it out for a quick trip to the mall? What even…? Those Delightful Dorothy books must have sold very well.

Dorothy was seemingly disappointed at Charlie’s lack of reaction.

“Is this about your mug?” she asked.

“No, it’s not about the mug,” Charlie groaned, as she walked towards the car and got on the passenger seat. Dorothy followed suit.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like it’s about the mug.”

Well, it wasn’t about the mug five minutes ago, but if she wanted to make it about the mug…

“What if you have broken it?” Charlie exploded. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find specific merchandise for the Hogwarts House you belong to?”

“Actually, no, I don’t know. I’m a Gryffindor,” Dorothy chuckled as she started the engine.

Charlie stared at her in disbelief. Dorothy was so busy taking the car out that she didn’t notice until the turned around the corner.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Charlie said, looking away immediately. “I just didn’t peg you for a Potterhead.”

“I read basically anything,” Dorothy shrugged. “That’s how you learn to write anything.”

“Huh,” Charlie said. Despite herself, she was staring at Dorothy, and if the little sideways smirk she had on her mouth was anything to go by, Dorothy knew she was staring. “So you were serious about that part.”

“Red, just how much of me do you assume is an act?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Most of it?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong,” Dorothy chuckled, but Charlie had the distinct impression there was a sad look in her eyes. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re not interested.”

“That’s right,” Charlie crossed her arms and looked outside of the window. “This is an entirely business relationship.”

“I wouldn’t call it a business since I’m not getting paid,” Dorothy pointed out.

“You know what I meant.”

“Right,” Dorothy said.

“Right,” Charlie repeated.

And that seemed to be the end of the conversation, because Dorothy turned on the music.

_You say yes, I say no_

_You say stop, I say go, go, go!_

_Oh, no!_

_You say goodbye, and I say hello…_

Dorothy started humming along and tapping the wheel rhythmically like no one was watching. So Charlie didn’t really have to hide her surprise at Dorothy being into The Beatles.

 

* * *

 

The mall was crowded, as it was expected on a Saturday morning, but Charlie still found it annoying that all those people were walking around and getting in her personal space. Then again being sleepy increased antisocial tendencies by a thousand, so she insisted they hit Starbucks before looking for the dress.

“Don’t you mean dresses?” Dorothy asked, while they were on the queue.

“No, I mean dress,” Charlie insisted. “Your dress. I already have mine.”

“Oh, really, what’s it like?” Dorothy asked, tilting her head.

“It’s just a dress,” Charlie replied, not for a second convinced that Dorothy was actually interested in it. “It’s white, it’s pretty, and I already wore it for homecoming.”

“Repeating dresses? Isn’t that against the rules of fashion or something?”

“Well, the rules of fashion weren’t made for people who live on a budget.” Charlie rolled her eyes. She really wasn’t going to be in the mood for Dorothy’s smart comments until she was halfway down with her coffee. “And besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to notice. I went to homecoming alone.”

“Because that’s how you roll?”

“Because my date stood me up for a pretty guy with blue eyes,” Charlie corrected her. “It was Dean.”

If Dorothy had something to comment about it, she didn’t, to Charlie’s relief. She ordered a grande and Dorothy ordered a pretzel. They sat down and Charlie had exactly ten minutes of peace before she noticed Dorothy wasn’t eating. Instead, she was looking at her with her chin on her hand and an interrogative expression in her eyes.

“What?” Charlie snapped.

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” she said. “You seem like a very grumpy, brooding person, yet you have a mom who’s totally cool letting you go out with strange girls and a best friend you’re willing to go the extra mile for. It’s contradictory.”

“I am not grumpy!” Charlie exclaimed, grumpily. “I am the nicest person to ever walk this earth; I am a literal ray of sunshine. Ask anybody!”

“Oh, really?” Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “’Cause you’ve done nothing but protest and complain every time you’re with me.”

“And have you considered that might have something to do with you?” Charlie groaned, as she kept drinking with pursed lips. She couldn’t believe Dorothy’s nerve. She was the most optimistic, positive person ever because she made sure to be. Dorothy didn’t know her at all, how could she say that?

“I don’t think so,” Dorothy said, grabbing her pretzel. “I’m pretty agreeable.”

“You’re pretty annoying,” Charlie huffed.

“Well, what do you know? We’ve finally found common ground.”

And she took a bite of her pretzel. Charlie was left with the distinctive impression she was being insulted, but her brain was still running on empty so she couldn’t say exactly how. All she could do was keep caffeinating her body and hope Dorothy found a dress she liked before collapsing.

Well, it would have been so much easier if they had gone into the store when there were only exhausted employees who were overworked and wanted to get them out just as fast as Charlie wanted to get out. As it turned out, they had the bad luck to run into the store’s owner, who upon looking at Dorothy started melting into smiles and flattery.

“Miss Baum, yes, of course, we will find the best dress so you can wear!” she said. “Something golden or… or… silver! It will go beautifully with your skin tone…”

“Better not,” Dorothy said, with a tense smile. “My date is going in white. I don’t think silver will be a good contrast.”

“Of course not,” the woman said, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course not! Something blue then, or red. Not too bright a red, of course, but more on the burgundy side…”

“Do you know this fashion victim?” Charlie leaned to ask in a whisper while the woman started taking dresses off the hangers like she was a version of Santa Claus that only gave pretty dresses to girls who behaved well.

“She knows my father,” Dorothy explained with a shrug. “Or maybe she knows _of_ him? It’s hard to keep track of everybody that comes to his Christmas’ dinner parties.”

Charlie blinked a couple of times.

“They really do the whole elegant parties with people all dressed up _Eyes Wide Shut_ style?”

She realized too late, by Dorothy’s chuckling, that it might not have been the best comparison.

“Oh, trust me, it’s a lot less interesting than _Eyes Wide Shut_ ,” Dorothy said. “The only reason I’m in them it’s because they’re at my house. Otherwise, you couldn’t pay me to go.”

“But you’re coming to the Winter Formal for free,” Charlie pointed out.

“That’s different,” Dorothy replied.

Charlie didn’t have time to ask how it was different, because the owner came at them with about a dozen dresses over her arm.

“Let’s start with this,” she said, separating a short, purple one for Dorothy to see. “I bet all the boys at the dance will be turning heads when they see you in it.”

This time, they laughed together, because they knew for certain that at least two boys wouldn’t even give her a second glance.

“That’s really nice,” Dorothy said, after calming down. “But how about I chose the ones I like and just try those on?”

“Oh,” the owner said, visibly disappointed. “Of course, we can do that too… is your friend going to buy one too?”

“No, I’m just here for moral support,” Charlie said.

“Ah, come on, Red,” Dorothy grabbed the purple dress and hanged it in front of her. “Don’t you wanna turn the heads of all the boys at the dance with this?”

She stuck her tongue out and Charlie couldn’t help but to burst into laughter.

“Well, sure,” she said. “When you put it that way…”

If it had been a movie, that would have been the scene where they had a montage of all the dresses they tried on. Of course, in real life it was a much slower process, even when Charlie whipped out her cellphone and put _Walking on Sunshine_ on speaker. The dressing room had to be at least as big as Charlie’s room and full of mirrors, so it was easy for them to move as the store’s owner kept bringing more and more dresses, saying about each that it was “the best one in the store” or that “it complements your figure so well” or that “It’s a dream, you look like a dream in that dress!”

Dorothy nodded and went along, but made a funny face at Charlie every time the woman turned her back on them. Even though she was clearly not taking it seriously, Charlie couldn’t help but to think the woman was being completely honest when she said those things. Dorothy was beautiful, with long shapely legs and a beautiful olive skin that seemed to glow with whatever she was wearing. And Charlie wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it, but there were boobs underneath her three layers of clothes and sports bra. Actual, quite nice boobs. Not that she looked. Okay, maybe she did. A little.

Dorothy looked a bit like a supermodel in all those dresses, is what Charlie was saying, and she couldn’t help but to feel like a sack of bones when standing in front of the mirror as the owner added pin after pin to get a dress to fit her.

“My dear, you’re so… petite,” the woman commented. “Oh, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll fill up quite nicely a few years from now.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as sarcastic as she felt it.

“I think Charlie’s just fine,” Dorothy intervened. “At least she’s not a goddamn tree like I am.”

“But you’re… tall,” Charlie replied, feeling the words rolling out of her tongue as awkwardly as they had sounded in her mind. “That’s… a good thing.”

“Oh, joy,” Dorothy said, rolling her eyes. “You found something nice to say about me.”

But despite her sarcastic tone, Charlie thought she saw her smile.

In the end, Dorothy chose a sapphire, knee-length dress that fit her like a glove and used her father’s credit card to pay for it. The owner was practically drooling.

“Thank you so much for buying here!” she greeted them as she walked them to the door. “Come back soon, tell your friends about it!”

“Will do!” Dorothy said. “Thank you!”

The owner didn’t notice or chose to ignore the sarcasm in her tone.

“Is everywhere you go to like this?” Charlie asked, partly amused, partly perplexed. She had never been lavished with attention when she walked inside a store. Well, maybe a comic book store where she was a regular, but still…

“With people who know my father,” Dorothy sighed. “Come on now, you’ve been yawning for five minutes straight. I got the dress, so I can take you home.”

“I’m… fine.” Charlie yawned again, which actually didn’t do much for her case. “Okay, I’m not,” she admitted when Dorothy shot her a skeptic look. “But let me go to the bathroom first.”

It took basically all her strength of will to stay awake in there. She splashed her face with cold water several times, decided to at least be awake by the time they got to her house, because falling asleep in Dorothy’s car would be inappropriate to say the very least. And besides, maybe, she wanted to take the chance to talk to her a little bit longer. Maybe to ask her more questions about her life, about why she looked so angry and cynical when she apparently had everything she could wish for.

“That is none of your business. Get it together, Charlene,” she told her reflection. “Remember why you’re doing this.”

She still straightened her shoulders and stuck her chin up when she walked out of the bathroom.

“Okay, I’m ready to…”

She stopped on her tracks.

Dorothy was standing near the bathroom’s door, holding her dress’ box against her chest like it was some sort of shield. Glinda was in front of her, with her arms crossed and a strange expression: it was a mixture of contempt and anger, like yes, you were irritating her, but she was not about to stoop down to your level to let you know.

“Charlie,” she greeted her with a tense smile before turning her attention back to Dorothy. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Can’t understand why; I just told you I was here with her,” Dorothy replied.

The air between them was charged with static as they seized each other up, like they were trying to determine which one of the two would attack first.

“Uh… hi, Glinda,” Charlie muttered. “We were just buying some dresses and stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” Glinda replied, with a crooked eyebrow. “Well, don’t let me get in your way.”

“We sure won’t,” Dorothy said, and before Charlie could add another word, she grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.

“Wait, what was that all about?” Charlie asked, confused.

“Long story,” Dorothy replied dryly.

Suddenly she looked even more irritated than before and Charlie had the impression she was going to snap at her if she probed her further, so she went quiet and tried to keep up Dorothy’s pace as they practically ran to the parking lot. She really shouldn’t ask. It was none of her business. Why did she care, why would she…?

“I thought you guys… knew each other?” Charlie said, and immediately she hated herself for it, but her curiosity was too big. Dorothy had known Charlie had an on-off relationship with Glinda, so she figured they were at least somewhat acquainted to one another, but that display of hostility just now…

“Oh, we know each other,” Dorothy replied through gritted teeth. “We know each other pretty damn well.”

“Yes, but…” Charlie started asking again, but she halted.

Something had glimmered in the corner of her eye and she had to step back to get a better look at it. She didn’t know why. She usually wasn’t much for shopping, except when it came to memorabilia from her favorite fandoms and rare comic book editions. And she definitely, definitely, was not in the habit of falling in love with excessively expensive items of random clothing she was only going to wear once.

And yet, her train of thought had completely been derailed by a pair of silver high heel pumps that would match her white dress just so. They had little bows on it, and they were so _shiny_. Dean would make fun at her for how girly they were and she would have to give up a lot of her monthly subscriptions to online gaming for a while (she calculated around a year and three months), but they were so pretty…

“Red?” Dorothy called.

Charlie snapped out of it. God, lack of sleep really did weird things to her brain.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” she shook her head. “Uh… you don’t have to tell me about Glinda if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, good.” Dorothy rolled her eyes. “’Cause I don’t want to.”

Charlie thought she added something along the lines of ‘ _That’s fine_ ’ but she wasn’t sure because she couldn’t remember. She also couldn’t remember anything in between climbing Dorothy’s car and her parking in front of her house. It might have been a case of her brain going to sleep while her body kept moving on its own.

“Okay, well, this has been fun,” Dorothy said. Charlie thought she detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her.

“I’m funnier after I’ve slept well,” Charlie said. Or at least she thought she did, because her tongue was heavy and everything around her seemed to be moving very slowly.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dorothy replied. “See you at school, Red.”

Charlie muttered something (she couldn’t remember what) and crossed the garden with heavy legs. She didn’t even make it to her room. She just collapsed on the couch as soon as she opened the door.

She had about two hours of peaceful sleep before the Imperial March woke her up.

“Are you dating Dorothy?” the voice at the other side of the line asked.

Charlie rubbed her eyes, giving her brain enough time to realize who was calling and why.

“Hi, Glinda,” she greeted her as she sat up as slowly as she could. “Uh… no, I’m not.”

She would have explained that she was only with her because Glinda refused to go to the dance, but she didn’t have the chance:

“Good, because she’s trouble, Charlie,” Glinda continued. “You know I care about you and you’re a great girl. So you should want nothing to do with the likes of her.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Charlie yawned. “After the dance, I won’t anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Dorothy and Charlie listen to in this chapter is "Hello, Goodbye" by The Beatles


	3. Chapter 3

The day of the Winter Dance was cold and grey. Charlie grimaced as soon as she looked out of the window and started regretting not getting a shawl or a pretty coat to cover her dress. Oh, well. She would just have to dance like there was no tomorrow to keep warm.

Her mom already had the coffee ready and she was fuzzing about with some scissors and brushes that made Charlie shiver. She knew her mother’s frustrated dream had been to be a hairstylist and Charlie had, on occasion, allowed her to experiment with her hair, but she didn’t think the morning before a dance was the best day for that.

“Oh, Charlene, good morning,” Mrs. Bradbury greeted her when Charlie walked into the kitchen. “There’s a package for you there.”

“A package of what?” Charlie asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Was this Mrs. Bradbury’s idea of surprising her? Was there some sort of trap here she should be aware of?

Mrs. Bradbury picked up the scissors, obviously too concentrated on that to answer Charlie’s question. Or at least pretending to be indifferent convincingly enough.

Charlie looked at the package over the kitchen table with a little bit of suspicion. It was white with a bow on top, but besides that, it looked pretty unremarkable. She wondered if she should shake it to try and hear what was inside, but what if it was a bomb? What if it exploded in her face? Granted, she didn’t have many enemies capable of such thing (except in the virtual world, where she slayed egos left and right), but it was never a bad idea to be cautious.

“Charlene, are you letting your overactive imagination run wild?” Mrs. Bradbury asked.

“No,” Charlie lied, and decidedly, she pulled from the bow to untie it.

There was a pair of shoes inside the box. Not any pair of shoes, but _her_ shoes, the silver pumps she saw at the mall the day she went to get Dorothy’s dress with her. Charlie stared at them open-mouthed for a while, before shutting the box like it contained a snake that had tried to bite her.

“Charlene?”

“I can’t take these,” she said, raising her hands in the air like that would make the box go away. “Mom, I have to give them back. Is there a receipt? Who brought them here?”

“Some guy from the store,” Mrs. Bradbury replied, wheeling herself closer to Charlie to check on the table. “Why, they’re not your size? You don’t like them?”

Charlie bit the inside of her mouth, because neither of those questions gave her a credible excuse to turn it down.

“They’re too expensive,” she said. “I can’t just accept them, they’re too…”

“They’re beautiful!” Mrs. Bradbury gasped as she picked them out of the box. “Oh, they’re so pretty! Can’t you just imagine yourself dancing in these?”

“No, because they’re so tall they’ll probably hurt my feet,” Charlie argued. Although a part of her, a teeny tiny part of her she usually kept carefully locked away under mom jeans and plaid shirts, the part of her that wanted to be a princess growing up, was wailing at her to at least try them on. So she kept talking trying to drown it out: “Or I’ll stumble and fall in front of everybody, or…”

“Look, there’s a card!” Mrs. Bradbury exclaimed, completely ignoring Charlie’s protests. She extended it towards Charlie with a face-splitting smile, and Charlie had no choice but to take it and read it.

_Red,_

_Thought these would look good with your dress._

_D._

A part of Charlie wanted to scream in frustration at how pretentious it was on Dorothy’s part to just up and buy her stuff. Another part of her (perhaps the same part that wanted to wear the shoes) was telling her to just shut up and accept it. Because, really, when was the last time a girl had done something like that for her? Never, that’s when. Maybe she had judged Dorothy too hard. Maybe she had…

No. No. Those were the shoes talking, not her. She wasn’t going to fall for that. Dorothy was a troublemaker and she had to keep away from her.

“If you really don’t like them, you don’t have to wear them,” Mrs. Bradbury said. “But at least try them on for a little bit. Please? For me?”

And she gave Charlie the puppy eyes. And well, how was she supposed to say no to that?

 

* * *

 

Dean lived right next to them and he still managed to be five minutes late to pick her up.

“You look very handsome, Dean,” Mrs. Bradbury said after she opened the door.

“Thank you,” Dean said, pulling the collar of his shirt nervously. “I feel a little stuffy.”

“You’re just fine,” Mrs. Bradbury guaranteed him. “Oh, and just wait until you see my Charlene!”

Charlie was at the top of the stairs, thinking she might need to use her mother’s stair lift to get down. The shoes had fit her like a glove, but she was not used to being six extra inches away from the floor and walking down those steps seemed like a suicidal mission. Granted, she still had time to turn around and change, but that would have been akin to admitting defeat. And if there was one thing Charlene Celeste Bradbury wasn’t, was a quitter.

Breathing in deeply, she put her foot in the first step, then in the next one, and then in the next one. Fourteen more, thirteen more. Yes, holding on very tight to her clutch purse actually helped to give her a false sense of stability. Seven more, six more. Strange, he had lived in that house all of her life, but it was the first time she noticed just how many of those things there were. Three more, two more, one more…

With a sigh of relief, Charlie reached the bottom of the stairs and was received by a single solitary applause.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she groaned at Dean.

“Sorry,” Dean said, but he couldn’t hide his amused grin. Mrs. Bradbury, on her side, was exulting.

“Oh, you look so grown up and pretty!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I want a picture! Let me take a picture of you!”

“We’re going to be late…” Dean started to protest, but Charlie’s glare immediately shut him up.

“My mom wants a picture, Dean,” she said. “I think we can afford to be a little late.”

Dean swallowed and offered to handle the camera. After a couple of blinding flashes and Mrs. Bradbury reminded them to “have fun, but be careful”, they couldn’t finally get out of the house. Dean mockingly offered Charlie to help her down the porch’s steps and she smacked him in the head with her purse.

“Seriously, what is up with those shoes?” he laughed once they were in the car.

“They’re pretty,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Would you just drive and get off my case?”

Dean did just that, and put on Led Zeppelin so loud Charlie could feel the drums in her stomach. She figured it was good practice, because the entire night was going to be more or less that.

“What do you think Dorothy’s house is like?” Charlie shouted over the music a little later.

“No idea!” Dean replied. “Why does it matter?”

Charlie figured it didn’t, but the direction Dorothy had given them was for the nicest part of town, and with all the talk about her father’s dinner parties and the fact she obviously didn’t care to blow a couple hundred of dollars on shoes she wasn’t even going to wear… well, Charlie was a bit curious. Perfectly natural curiosity. It wasn’t that she was interested in finding out a little more about Dorothy. It wasn’t that at all, and if Dean had even dared to suggest it, she would have hit him again.

Of course he didn’t, because one, Dean couldn’t read minds. And two, even if he had seemed on occasion to guess exactly what Charlie was thinking, tonight he had his own worries to deal with. Charlie could guess it by the way he kept singing out loud and taping his fingers against the wheel. As they approached Dorothy’s street, Charlie turned off the stereo.

“Dean, you don’t need to worry about anything,” she promised him. “The plan is going to work, okay?”

“Of course is going to work,” he replied with that cocky smirk that might have fooled someone who didn’t know him as well as Charlie. “I’m not worried. Are you worried?”

Charlie didn’t even dignify that projection with an answer. And besides, they were already parking outside of Dorothy’s house. Despite her best efforts, Charlie couldn’t see much except for a roof covered in golden Christmas’ lights and a garden with animal bushes. The rest was hidden by a wall and a gate, and they didn’t get to see inside because Dorothy was waiting for them right beyond the gate, trembling in what seemed to be a white fur coat. She slid on the backseat before Dean had even hit the breaks.

“You’re late,” she accused them through chattering teeth.

“You could have waited inside,” he shrugged.

“It’s sad that all those bunnies had to die and they couldn’t even keep you warm,” Charlie commented.

“It’s synthetic,” Dorothy replied, rolling her eyes and looking away in irritation. Charlie saw an enormous rose, the same blue tone as her dress, tangled in her hair, and realized Dorothy was going above and beyond to look good that night. The least she could was not tease her about it.

“Hey…” she began to apologize.

“Nice ride, Winchester,” Dorothy said, suddenly changing the topic. “What model is it, ‘68?”

“’67,” Dean corrected her. “Yeah, she’s an old lady but she still has mileage to go.”

“I can tell,” Dorothy said, touching the seats. “You take good care of her.”

And what followed was twenty entire minutes of them geeking out about muscle cars and models. Charlie could tell, by the way Dean kept smiling and nodding at every remark Dorothy made, that she had absolutely conquered him.

“But I say, there’s nothing like a bike,” Dorothy said. “I love feeling the wind in my hair, the vibration in my legs. You just feel so free, you know?”

“That is so freaking cool that you have one,” Dean nodded. “Don’t you think is cool, Charles?”

Charlie, who had spent all that time looking outside the window and feeling ignored, turned her head back at them.

“Oh, yeah, fantastic,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound too sarcastic.

However, the talk about cars apparently calmed Dean down, because he looked relaxed and happy by the time they stopped in front of Castiel’s house.

“Okay, girls,” he said. “Show time.”

They hadn’t even managed to take two steps into the front yard when Castiel opened the door. For a second, Charlie thought he was going to make a run for it and that all this theater wouldn’t be necessary, but then Mrs. Novak’s voice came floating behind him:

“Castiel, aren’t you going to ask your friends to come inside?”

Castiel closed his eyes for second, asking God and all of his angels to spare him, and then replied in a cheery tone:

“Yes, of course, mother. Come on in everyone, please.”

Dorothy went in first. She was actually wearing heels almost as tall as Charlie’s, but she seemed completely comfortable climbing steps with them.

“What a lovely house, Mrs. Novak,” she said, candidly.

Charlie stayed behind just long enough to see Dean and Castiel hold hands for a brief second before he too walked inside.

“Hey, Naomi, how you’ve been?”

Charlie went inside right in time to see Mrs. Novak’s nostrils flaring.

“Hello, Dean,” she greeted him coldly, before turning her attention to Dorothy. “So, Dorothy, Castiel has told us a lot about you!”

“All good, I hope,” Dorothy smiled, charming and sweet.

“Yes, nothing but upstanding facts,” Castiel said, nervously. “Uh… if we could…”

“No! Is that Cas?” Dorothy asked, pointing at the picture of two fat babies in a bathtub on the library’s shelf. One of them was biting a rubber duck and had distinctive blue eyes. “Look how cute and chubby he was!”

“Oh, yes, that’s one of my favorites,” Mrs. Novak said, trying (ad failing) to keep her severe face on. “So Castiel tells me you’re a senior…”

“Yes, we’re in Advanced English together,” Dorothy lied with the most radiant smile ever. “Let me tell you, he’s so much smarter and mature than… other boys at school,” she said, throwing an eloquent glance in Dean’s direction.

Charlie squeezed Dean’s arm to dissolve his offended expression. Dorothy knew exactly what she was doing. She was playing the Stepford Girlfriend, and Mrs. Novak was swallowing every bit of it.

“So what do you plan to do when you graduate?” she continued asking, but her tone was noticeably friendlier.

“Well, I would love to study English and become a teacher,” Dorothy said. “Inspiring children to read, you know. I love children. That’s why I hope one day Jesus will put that special someone in my path so I can have a lot of them on my own.”

She turned her head around and ostensibly winked at Castiel. Mrs. Novak was physically restraining herself from grinning. And so were Dean and Charlie, but for entirely different reasons. Castiel just looked like he had thrown up in his mouth a little.

“That’s lovely,” Mrs. Novak said. “Oh, would you mind if I take a picture?”

“Oh, wonderful!” Dorothy exclaimed and took off her coat. “Let’s get one all of us together!”

Charlie was slow to react, because again, she was astonished by how stunning Dorothy looked in that designer dress. She had seen her in it before, but not with the make-up that heightened her lovely features and the shoes that made her legs look even taller and the way the blue rose rested among her…

Dean had to clear his throat really loud for her to stop staring. He stood right by Castiel and Charlie had the impression that it was to cope a feel of his ass, if the little jump Castiel gave was any indication. Meanwhile, Mrs. Novak produced a camera and took one miserable picture of the four of them together in which Charlie was sure she appeared with her eyes closed.

“Now just Castiel and Dorothy, please,” she indicated. “If you’re so kind to move, Dean, thank you…”

This time she took her time adjusting the length and the angle and she actually snapped three or four until Castiel reminded her they were already late.

“Yes, of course, sweetie,” Mrs. Novak said, opening the door for them. “Have fun!”

She stopped Castiel by the door to adjust his tie and tell him something the others didn’t quite catch.

“So, did I make a good impression?” Dorothy asked mockingly once they were all in the car.

“Indeed,” Castiel said. “My mother stopped me to remind me to be respectful and kind to my lovely ‘friend’.”

He drew air quotes with the last word, and Dorothy giggled uncontrollably. Dean and Charlie exchanged a look of relief. The plan had worked. Now all they had to make sure was that no picture of Dean and Castiel acting coupley made its way to Facebook.

“Thank you.”

Charlie saw them in the rearview mirror. Castiel was giving Dorothy that super intense look he gave everybody, especially when he wanted to make sure they knew he was talking seriously. Dorothy shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, but she replied with her million dollar smile and her usual coolness:

“Don’t mention it.”

 

* * *

 

The party was in full swing when they arrived, which was good, because that way nobody noticed them switching coupled the moment they crossed the gym’s doors. There was an Elvis song blasting (who the hell had hired the DJ?) and with a smile, Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and dragged him to the dance floor. In two seconds flat, they were dancing with their heads on the other’s shoulders.

“They look cute together,” Dorothy commented.

Charlie gave a little jump. She hadn’t realized the other girl had come back from leaving their coats in the hanger, and that she was standing so close their shoulders were grazing and they could actually speak without screaming.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “Yeah, they do.”

A few seconds later she lost sight of them in the sea of couples, and she was just about to suggest to Dorothy they went for some punch when she found her hand extended towards her.

“Can I have this dance?”

There wasn’t a trace of mockery or irony in the question. Dorothy genuinely did want just to dance with her and the thought completely flustered Charlie. Okay, yes, maybe she was a tiny bit intrigued by Dorothy more than she had ben annoyed at her, for her obvious dislike of Glinda and for the fact she was waiting for them outside of her house. Maybe she had come to terms with the fact Dorothy was a really cute girl and she might have developed the tiniest of crushes on her (fine, maybe a little bigger than that). Maybe she wanted to catch another glimpse of her, of actually her, not the Dorothy Baum with the bad reputation, but the Dorothy Baum who listened to The Beatles, and fooled around in dressing rooms, and gave random gifts, and thought Charlie’s mom was cool.

That had been so definitely _not_ part of the plan.

But if there was another thing Charlie wasn’t, it was not smooth around girls she liked.

“Gee, I wish I could,” she said. “But with these shoes, it’s going to be a bit complicated.”

Dorothy looked down and her eyes lit up.

“Hey, you’re wearing them!”

“My mom insisted,” Charlie replied. “Said it’d be rude not to.”

Dorothy laughed, but the sound was caught in her throat when he felt Charlie’s fingers intertwining with hers.

“Fine, I’ll dance,” she said. “But if I fall…”

“I’ll catch you,” Dorothy promised. “And then we’ll both fall and make giant fools of ourselves together.”

The mental image was just too hilarious. They were both cracking up as they tried to find a place in the dance floor, and then Charlie actually stumbled and crashed against Dorothy. She managed to hold her, buy by then they were both laughing so hard Charlie’s stomach hurt and there were tears running down Dorothy’s cheeks.

“Oh, your make-up!” Charlie pointed out.

“Who cares?” Dorothy replied. She lifted Charlie’s arm above her head and made her spin on her heels, her skirt twirling around her legs, before pulling her closer.

The skirts of their dresses were now tangled together, white against blue, as they swayed their hips following the music. It had now changed to something more modern, a remix of _Girls like Girls_. Charlie thought it was terribly appropriate for the moment. She hanged onto Dorothy’s shoulders (she was still taller than her, but with those shoes Charlie could reach her without problems), and spun around with her with the dim lights bathing over them.

_Saw your face, heard your name_

_Gotta get with you_

_Girls like girls like boys do_

_Nothing new…_

The warmth of Dorothy’s cheek against hers and the softness of her long hair under her fingertips sent a sweet shiver down her spine. Dorothy laughed again in her ear, and this time when they spun, she put her arms around Charlie’s waist and practically lifted her up. If she was trying to display her strength to impress Charlie… well, it was working.

_Isn’t this why we came?_

_Tell me you can feel it too_

_Tell me, girls like girls_

_Like boys do, nothing new._

Glinda was standing next to the punch bowl. Her mouth was hanging open in an expression of livid rage. Charlie exchanged a look with her over Dorothy’s shoulder and showed her an apologetic smile as the song ended. Whatever happened with Dorothy, Charlie would have to have a very uncomfortable talk with her friend with benefits eventually. But right now, she was just happy to be there, dancing in the arms of the most irritating and most beautiful girl in the school.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

Dorothy smiled at her over her shoulders.

“Oh, we’re definitely not supposed to be here,” she said. “That’s part of the fun.”

They had danced to at least five more songs before Charlie declared she couldn’t take anymore and she desperately needed to take off her shoes. At which point Dorothy had got them both a cup of punch and suggested they went to a more private place. Charlie was thinking they could ask Dean for the keys of his car and cuddle up inside for a while (for warmth, obviously), but instead, Dorothy had led Charlie inside the school building through the backdoor of the cafeteria. How did she know it was going to be open, and how did she know that the school’s alarm didn’t actually work were questions Charlie wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to.

The school looked so different all empty and darkened. There was almost an eerie feeling to it as they walked down the halls hand in hand, not saying a word, trying on the doors until they found a classroom that wasn’t locked. Dorothy sat on the desk and took of her shoes and after a few seconds of hesitation, Charlie imitated her.

“Okay, I have to ask,” she said. “How many times have you sneaked into the school at night?”

“A couple of times,” Dorothy shrugged. “It’s a cool place to hang around and read. What’s your favorite book?”

“Why are you asking?”

“You asked a question, I thought it was fair I asked another,” Dorothy shrugged. “So?”

“Harry Potter,” Charlie confessed. “And the Goblet of Fire.”

“Fine choice.”

“Did you always like The Beatles?”

“Since I was a child,” Dorothy nodded. “Why is your mom in a wheelchair? Sorry, too personal?” she apologized when Charlie lowered her gaze.

“No, it’s just…” she took a deep breath. She still got choke up talking about it despite all the years. “When I was little, she was in a car accident with my dad. He died, and she could never walk again.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Charlie was beginning to think it was very easy to tell when Dorothy actually meant something and when she was just joking around or lying for her own benefit. There was an inflexion in her voice that revealed the truth, and it sounded like she truly meant that, like they weren’t just words people say when you admitted something like that to them. Charlie discovered she liked this Dorothy better, sincere and dorky instead of cocky and aloof. She moved closer to her in the desk, so their pinky fingers were now touching each other.

“What’s your deal with Glinda?” she asked.

Dorothy didn’t say anything for couple of seconds. Charlie was going to point out that if she got to ask something so personal it was only fair that she was asked something personal as well, but then she felt Dorothy’s pinky finger moving to caress her, so she went quiet.

“We used to date,” Dorothy confessed in the end. “Not in a _‘we made out now and then because it was funny’_ way. I mean actual hand-holding, sneaking in through the window to spend the night, sharing our deepest secrets and fears with each other kind of dating.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. She was going to add Dorothy didn’t need to say anything else, but she continued:

“And everything was pretty and pink… until she outed me to my dad.”

“She did that?” Charlie asked, scandalized but not surprised. She knew Glinda was perfectly capable of something like that.

“Yep,” Dorothy nodded. “And it was ugly, because my dad is a wealthy well-known guy who voted Republican his whole life. I mean, I think he’s starting to wrap his head around it now, but back then it was all _‘I’m sure you’ll get over this phase of yours soon’_ and _‘Is this because your mother wasn’t around while you grew up?’_ Also, before you ask, that is the reason I didn’t ask you guys inside to get our picture taken or whatever. And it’s the reason why, as my psychologist puts it, I _‘act out’_.”

Charlie felt like she was trying to make her laugh, but she couldn’t. It was just too sad.

“I’m sure Glinda wasn’t trying to be cruel. Actually, I think she truly believed she was helping,” Dorothy went out when it was obvious Charlie wasn’t falling for the joke. “But it wasn’t her secret to tell, and I got really mad at her. We didn’t even look at each other for a very long time.”

“So that’s why you wanted to help Cas,” Charlie realized suddenly.

“Yeah,” Dorothy said. “It’s not that I think he should pretend to be someone he isn’t, as Glinda would say. I just think he should tell his family when he’s ready to tell them and when they’re ready to hear him.”

“That’s very noble, Dorothy.”

Dorothy chuckled, like she couldn’t believe Charlie had actually used that word. She moved her hand away, but only to place it on top of Charlie’s. And suddenly, they were both hyperaware of how close they were, of their breathings hitching up in unison. Charlie turned her head, and so did Dorothy, so their foreheads were grazing now. They stared at each other in the semidarkness of the classroom, without saying a word. Charlie licked her lips nervously, and Dorothy raised her free hand to gently grab her chin.

“But your mom knows, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said. “She’s cool with it.”

Dorothy kissed her. Her lips tasted like strawberry, and Charlie’s head started spinning around so fast she began spouting pure nonsense when they broke away:

“In fact, I think she likes you. Maybe you should come over for coffee again sometime…”

Dorothy kissed her again.

“… you could even drink from my Ravenclaw mug if you wanted to,” Charlie finished with a sigh.

“That’s very generous of you, Red,” Dorothy laughed.

This time, when she kissed her, Charlie closed her eyes and didn’t say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Charlie and Dorothy dance to is Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko, which I always thought was a very fitting song for them.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
